


there is a light that never goes out

by cosmickirk



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: M/M, but its still fluffy tbh, i headcanon marvin's last name as cohen so let's just get that out of the way, im trying not to make them completely soft bc their dynamic is canonically a little fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickirk/pseuds/cosmickirk
Summary: A series of moments between Marvin and Whizzer, each inspired by a line from the song "There is a light that never goes out" by The Smiths.





	there is a light that never goes out

_Driving in your car / I never, never want to go home_

Whizzer hates Marvin’s Honda Civic. Passionately. Unequivocally. The way he hates pairing checks with stripes, or the Nixon administration.

It’s painted a sickly green colour, with plastic wood siding, and the seats are sheathed in kitschy zebra-print covers, courtesy of Marvin's well-intentioned but obviously blind mother.

Whizzer hates Marvin’s car, but accepts rides home anyway, to avoid taking two overcrowded buses. They live on the same block, a few miles from school, so their carpooling is a matter of convenience, really, and practicality, which is the line of reasoning Whizzer had used to talk Marvin into the arrangement in the first place.

They're usually alone in the car. Mendel the hippie likes to ride his bike and Trina, bless her heart, walks to and from school each day. She lives near enough, and since her house is in the opposite direction of Marvin's and Whizzer's, she hates the idea of inconveniencing them for thirty seconds off her travel time. _The sweetest girl,_ Whizzer calls her, as a Litmus test of sorts, and watches her smile as Marvin’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly around the steering wheel.  

He notes this idly, as he does most things about his friends.

Marvin and Whizzer talk largely in jabs, Marvin turning up the air conditioning only to have Whizzer shut it off entirely. Whizzer throwing the Pine Tree air freshener to the ground, complaining that _it's_   _suffocating me Marv, Jesus Christ!_

"Will you put those down?" Marvin barks, as Whizzer stretches his feet onto the dashboard. He slaps Whizzer's calf as if swatting a fly. " _Off!"_

Whizzer complies with an earth-shattering sigh and an eyeroll so severe his insolence is palpable. "Oh, your Highness, my apologies," he bows as deeply as possible against his seatbelt. "How could I forget? I'm allowed to touch only that which is covered in zebra print."

"Hey! _"_ Marvin protests, straining to conceal his smile. "Don't disrespect the zebra print. It's an integral part of this car's charm."

Whizzer throws his hands up, his voice going hysterical. " _Charm?"_

Marvin laughs now, openly, and admits to himself that he could have worse company.

 

\+ + +

 

Sometimes, if Marvin is in a particularly good mood, Whizzer will place a hand, very softly, on his knee. Just another test, he reasons.

Marvin coughs. “What are you doing?”

Whizzer doesn't reply, instead inching his hand upward and watching his best friend go completely still.

“I’m driving,” Marvin chastises, but his voice wavers. Almost imperceptibly. Almost.  

Whizzer notes, less idly, that Marvin says nothing of his girlfriend. He observes Marvin's eyes, hooded and pale blue. The line of his jaw, clenched. Marvin licks his lips, and Whizzer smiles. “Tell me to stop.”

He wastes no time. “ _Stop_.”

The word is sharp, ricocheting off the windshield and landing in Whizzer's lap with a thud. Marvin doesn't mean for it to be so harsh, but harsh it is, and Whizzer recoils as if from the heat of a stove. His hand moves instead to the radio, changing Marvin's god-awful choice of station to something more peppy, and he spends the rest of the ride looking out the window, thinking of little and speaking of nothing.

It’s like this. Seven hours of school, laughter with their friends at lunch, then absolute quiet in the car. Whizzer pushes a boundary, Marvin pushes back. The music is changed.

Marvin always says stop before things go too far, until, one day, he doesn't. He looks at Whizzer's hand as it thumbs the fabric of his jeans, feels the familiar tug in his stomach that he admits, now, is longing.

"Eyes on the road, Marv," Whizzer's voice is low, and cocky, as if he can hear his friend's deliberations. 

With a sudden jerk of the wheel, Marvin veers off the main road and onto a side street. Whizzer retracts his hand in surprise, but doesn't question the detour. He arches a questioning brow, though, when they reach the former industrial part of town. A part that experienced an economic collapse before any of them were born and never quite recovered. It remains desolate and gray to this day, a place that parents warn you to avoid.

“You trying to murder me, Cohen?” 

Marvin groans. “God, how are you always _talking_?” He parks the car in an empty lot behind the long-defunct sugar factory, undoing his seatbelt with almost trembling hands.

“Because," Whizzer replies, "I just have so many brilliant thoug–" he is cut off (for once in his life) by Marvin’s lips, warm and rough and altogether desperate against his own. Whizzer, practically pinned to his seat, reacts quickly. His hands cradle Marvin’s face, a tender move that he predictably falls for, and Whizzer smiles knowingly as the boy melts into him. He lets out the softest of moans against Whizzer's mouth, a delicate, breathy thing that might have been overlooked if Whizzer didn't notice absolutely everything. He thinks he could spend all day listening to that noise, could spend all day coaxing it out of Marvin's pretty, pretty lips.

He pauses when he feels Marvin's fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt.

In an act of enormous self-control, Whizzer pulls himself away, breath ragged and hands still cradling Marvin's face.

“What about Trina?”

The question is practically a taunt, and Whizzer searches Marvin’s slack, needy face for a shred of remorse. Marvin, for his part, looks almost confused, his eyes roaming Whizzer’s body without pretense now, lingering on his exposed chest, and his already ruined hair.

“What _about_ her?”

Whizzer smirks, in a hot flash of victory.

"Good answer."

 

\+ + + 

 

Marvin arrives home later and later. His parents ask more and more questions, until  _I was at the library_ ceases to be a satisfactory answer.

"We can't do this," he says one night, breaking a particularly deep kiss, and Whizzer sits back on his heels, breathless.

"What are you talking about?" he says, panting. "Your shirt's not even off. Which is ridiculous, by the way-"

"No. I mean -" Marvin gestures at the space between them. " _This."_ The word  _us_ goes unsaid, because the idea of Marvin and Whizzer constituting an  _us_ is laughable, if tempting.

"What do you mean?" He tugs Marvin closer, ready to convince him otherwise. Marvin closes his eyes as Whizzer trails kisses along his jaw. "Don't tell me you're feeling guilty _now._ " It's been a month since the first incident, and Whizzer is starting to enjoy the comfort of routine.

"Well, I mean, _I am_ , but that's not the thing."

Whizzer hears Marvin's breath hitch as he begins to suck on his neck.

"What's the thing, then?" Whizzer pauses to raise a quizzical brow.

"My parents."

Whizzer's body stills, but he keeps his tone light.

"Oh?" he wipes his mouth, and separates himself entirely from Marvin.

"They're asking a bunch of questions, and I don't know how much longer this secret's gonna last if we keep doing this all the time."

Whizzer raises his eyebrows tauntingly, and says in mock-horror: "What if it wasn't secret?" his voice is silly, exaggerated, but he's only half-joking. The idea of getting out of this stupid car appeals to him. He's tired of the goddamned zebra print.

" _Whiz_..." Marvin threads his fingers gently into Whizzer's hair, and Whizzer feels suddenly sick. Sick at the pity in Marvin's voice, like he's letting him down easy. Sick at the feeling of being someone's dirty little secret. Sick that he's been giving Marvin something that he'll never reciprocate. And he thinks that maybe Marvin is right. Maybe it _is_ better to head off this trainwreck before it gets even messier.

"I'm just kidding, idiot," he bats Marvin's hand away. "I would never be seen with you in public."

 "Right," Marvin nods, looking at him curiously. "So, we're agreed? We'll slow this thing down?"

"Of course," Whizzer replies. "I can even take the bus from now on, if that makes it easier."

Marvin sighs. "Come on, Whiz, you don't have to -"

"That's alright." He shrugs, and even to him it's overly glib. "I never really liked this car, anyway."

 

\+ + +

 

Marvin parks on the overlook this time, the city fanning out beneath them like a soupbowl of light. It's more romantic than the parking lots they had previously relegated themselves to, though neither wants to consider the implication of this.

Whizzer's strike lasted all of two weeks before he was fed up with the smell of the bus and Marvin was fed up with not having someone to touch and bitch about his day with.

Now, he lounges in the backseat, Whizzer curled against his bare chest, both of them smiling from a particularly satisfying meeting. Chalk it up to absence making the heart grow fonder. He runs a hand aimlessly through the boy's perfect hair, another hand palming his back gently. He sighs, looking at the moon, while Whizzer looks only at him, wishing he was less content. Less excited when Marvin said that his parents were out, and that they could spend an extra few hours together.

"So much for slowing down, huh?" he says, his voice a little muffled from being pressed against Marvin's chest.

Marvin chuckles, and the smile on his face is so blissful and organic that Whizzer wishes he had a camera to capture it. He sobers quickly though, and meets Whizzer's eyes seriously. "I don't think I can."

This makes Whizzer's heart do a flip that he doesn't acknowledge. He decides to take a risk, saying softly, "I don't think I _want_  to."

Marvin looks at him then like there is nothing in or outside the car more beautiful, and they hold each other for what seems like hours, the stars moving slowly across the sky. 

Eventually, Marvin starts to mutter and groan about his neck lying at a weird angle. 

"Do you wanna switch spots?" Whizzer offers, his brow crinkling in concern.

Marvin smiles, "Ah, but you're so pretty from this angle."

Whizzer flicks his hair obnoxiously. "I'm pretty from _every_ angle."

"Jesus, has anyone ever told you that vanity is a sin?" Marvin raises himself onto his elbows, so that their faces are separated by the barest sliver of warm air.

"Well," Whizzer replies.  "So is lying to myself about my own prettiness."

"I, uh," he smiles. "I don't think that's right, babe."

_Babe._

They both hear it. It's impossible not to, they're so close together. Whizzer  _feels_ the word brush against his lips, feels it all the way in his chest, which becomes strangely tight as he looks into Marvin's eyes, gleaming almost grey in the moonlight. 

"Oh, give me a break," he smiles slyly, the only way he knows how. "Like you've ever read the Bible."

 

\+ + +

 

The overlook again, this time after a late trip to a McDonald's drive-through. Wrappers on the floor, the sticky smell of grease in the air. 

They're in the backseat, Whizzer sprawled on Marvin's chest, with Marvin's neck just having to take it. They talk about a lot of things. About graduating in less than a month and about moving to new cities. About being miles away from each other come September. About being miles away from their symbiotically shitty parents.

"I can't imagine you anywhere but New York," Marvin says into Whizzer's hair.

"I know, it's crazy. But RISD suits me. I don't know, maybe I was meant for farm life."

"Just wait 'till you start wearing overalls," he grins.

Whizzer turns to Marvin with the purest look of disgust he can muster. "Over my dead body."

They talk until they have nothing left to say and their earliest childhood memories are upturned against the padded leather seats, along with their strangest insecurities and more than a few leftover ketchup packets. Whizzer lets out a wide yawn, which Marvin thinks is maybe the most endearing thing he's ever seen.

"You tired?"

Whizzer nods sleepily. "You're exhausting."

They rest in silence for at least another hour, Marvin's arms pulled around Whizzer, Whizzer's head in the crook of Marvin's neck. The A/C is off, to Whizzer's liking. He traces shapes absently against Marvin's chest, flowers and hearts and five-pointed stars. He draws until he feels Marvin's breath become even and slow. He is half-sure he's asleep, and half-hoping he isn't, when he whispers into his skin, small and confessional: 

"I wish you would break up with Trina."

Marvin blinks, which Whizzer cannot decide is a relief or a humiliation. Marvin looks at the boy in his arms, half-illuminated in the slanted glow of a streetlamp. A boy who has never looked smaller.

"I know," he says.

And Whizzer knows he should just leave it at that. He should shut up and not ruin their small time together, but he's too curious, and anyway, he thinks, six months of faithful fooling around have earned him some nosiness. "Do you think you'll marry her?" his voice is trying too hard to be casual.

A sharp intake of breath, and Marvin bristles. "I don't know," he says, and if Whizzer didn't know any better he'd think the infallible Marvin Cohen sounded a little lost. "I mean, I know she'd say yes."

"That's not a good enough reason."

He laughs, a little bitterly. "Isn't it?"

" _Marv_ -"

"I don't want to talk about this right now, alright?"

He pulls Whizzer into a particularly tender kiss, as if trying to convince him that everything is perfectly alright. The sad thing, Whizzer thinks, is that, as far as their time within the Civic is concerned, he's not even wrong.

He wants to say that this is all unfair. Unfair to Trina, who loves Marvin too much to be treated like she doesn't exist. Unfair to Whizzer, who admits that the same things are starting to apply to him. The longer they sneak around their friends, the more it'll hurt when everything finally comes to light. He wants to say _I deserve more than this. We all do._ But suddenly, Marvin is pulling an arm around his waist and worshiping his body with small, awed kisses.

So Whizzer nods, complacent. He rests his head against Marvin's chest, right above his heart, and closes his eyes, because if everything is dark it's easier to imagine that the boy beside him is his.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone knows this song but it's really beautiful and i think fits marvin and whizzer especially when they're younger/in the earlier stages of their relationship. tbh you should listen to it while reading for the full experience!!
> 
> thank y'all for reading <3


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